


Illumi's Closet

by ohofcourse



Series: Apologies [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Apologies, Domestic, Hisoka is a good boyfriend, I don't even know if this qualifies as fluff, Illumi is angry, M/M, Shopping, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohofcourse/pseuds/ohofcourse
Summary: Hisoka ruins Illumi's closet. He takes him shopping.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Series: Apologies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818052
Comments: 13
Kudos: 374





	Illumi's Closet

“My clothes.” Illumi didn’t know how his boyfriend had managed to do it. In fact, for a brief moment, he wondered if this was some sort of ploy, to force Illumi into nudity until he could find a new wardrobe. Maybe, if he returned to the bedroom, there would be an extremely inappropriate outfit, possibly maid-themed, waiting for him. 

“My clothes,” Ilumi repeated. Hisoka liked when Ilumi was at a loss for words–he precipitated this often. Except now, it was becoming a little frightening. He had not moved from this spot in nearly five minutes. Hisoka had tea rapidly cooling in the kitchen that he needed to get to. 

“It got on some of my clothes, too,” Hisoka offered. He pointed a sharp-nailed finger at a single undershirt, slightly splattered with gore. Other than that one shirt, of which he had five more identical ones, Hisoka’s clothes had been wholly untouched. In contrast, the entire half of Illumi’s closet, all twenty square meters of it, was covered in revolting sprays of blood and pulverized flesh. Hisoka, usually a tolerably clean killer, had decided just this once, to go berserk. In their closet, of all places. Illumi, for the first time in his life, felt his eye twitch involuntarily. 

“Let’s go shopping, Illu! Your outfits were getting tired anyway, this is an opportunity to reinvent yourself.” There was a pause. If Hisoka had been anyone else, he would probably be joining the already oppressive splatters of _person_ all over their shared master closet. But, he was Hisoka. 

“I… am angry.” Illumi’s perfect hair was gaining volume, puffing up slightly in much the same way that a cat’s fur does when it is feeling threatened. It was his nen, Hisoka realized with mounting apprehension.

Illumi darkened at the edges like a piece of paper being burned in a fire. His lovely pale skin was turning to a pallid bit green. However, it was his eyes that were perhaps the most frightening: they trembled in their sockets, his black pupils and irises swallowing up light like the doorway of a basement in a horror movie. When he turned to look at Hisoka, his mouth twitched. 

“Let’s go shopping then.” 

...

Truthfully, Hisoka was delighted. Replacing Illumi’s extensive wardrobe would not be a light task, but it would be fun. And really, he just wanted to see Illumi in a very tight pair of jeans. 

“Where to first?” He asked cheerily. 

“I expect I’ll need pants,” Illumi said flatly. After a brief, very hot shower, that Hisoka could see involved lots of aggressive scrubbing, Illumi realized he had nothing clean to wear. He was currently wearing a pair of sweats that belonged to Hisoka, white velcro sneakers that had survived the splattering, and a large pink striped sweater that should have been cropped, had Hisoka been wearing it. Such as it was, the sweater covered all of Illumi’s midriff unless he lifted his arms above his head. 

“Pants,” Hisoka mused, tapping his chin. He was getting distracted. Illumi looked darling in pink, and in stripes, and in slightly-too-large pants. He picked irritably at his nails and then continued to stand stiffly, his soulless eyes swiveling over the street. 

“I know where to go,” Hisoka decided. “And put your wallet away, I’m paying!” Illumi had not thought to bring his wallet. He felt it was an absolute given that Hisoka would be paying. 

Two men walked into the store just before noon. They were dressed a bit ridiculously. The taller of the two, taller, the saleswoman realized, because he was wearing a low pair of heels, was in an imitation jester’s outfit. It was gaudy but oddly nice-looking. His hair was bright red and pink and his face was whitened with makeup. He was twirling a credit card in between his fingers like he was about to do a disappearing act with it. His companion was of a similar stature and build, except he was a bit more slight. He had pin-straight black hair that fell to his lower back. It was lovely hair that glimmered when it moved. 

“How can I help you?” 

“I have no clothes,” the slimmer one said flatly. The jester grinned and very subtly stepped in front of his friend. 

“Boyfriend is very angry with me.” _Boyfriend,_ the saleswoman thought dazedly. She could not imagine either of them making very good boyfriends. They both looked like serial killers, albeit different ones. 

“Sure, what exactly are you looking for?” Her gaze flickered to the dark-haired one’s pants. 

“Illumi, dearest, you said you needed pants?” The jester asked sweetly, following her look.

“To start,” Illumi said. The saleswoman could sense some tension between him and his boyfriend, the jester. 

“Hisoka,” the jester said suddenly, as if reading her mind. He smiled even as his boyfriend walked stiffly towards the back of the store. 

“Lovely to meet you,” the saleswoman said. She couldn’t understand why, but she was starting to feel charmed. 

“What kind of pants does your boyfriend like?” She asked. Hisoka tapped his chin, squinted one eye as he thought. 

“Just bring us the tightest pants you have,” he said with a conspiring grin. _Poor Illumi_ , she thought. 

...

The saleswoman pulled about three different pairs of their nicest slacks, all fitted, and two pairs of dark jeans. This Illumi person didn’t seem like he would usually wear denim, but it was designer denim. There was a difference. 

Hisoka was sprawled on their lounge seating, nursing a glass of champagne their store manager had fetched for him. An untouched second flute sat on the coffee table, bubbling merrily. 

The saleswoman set Illumi up with the pants. When she knocked on the door to the changing room, he invited her to open the door with a cool “come in.” When the saleswoman peeked her head inside she felt her stomach drop. He had shoved the hem of the sweater up so he could pull countless needles from the waistband of his pants. The saleswoman could see the pale flex of his stomach and it felt almost obscene, even though, working here, she had seen much more of other people and hadn’t been fazed. Illumi lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. 

“Are those jeans?” 

“Just try them out, I think you’ll like them,” she said. Illumi’s black stare pinned her like a hand on her shoulder. He shifted his head and a few strands of black hair slid across his face. His hair was intoxicating. It smelled intensely of cool things–peppermint and rain and alpine. It was more masculine than she had expected, like he had done forest things just before coming here. She didn’t know why, but she had been expecting something floral, like his boyfriend, the jester. 

“Thank you,” he said somberly. The saleswoman could understand why he would be somber. He had no clothes.

“I’m going to fetch you a few button-downs and sweaters, just so you have tops to wear the pants with.” She could tell by the way he was wearing the pink striped sweater that he wanted it off his body. 

“Alright,” he said. There was an intensity in the way he spoke, despite his light, lilting tone, that sent shivers down her spine. 

...

Illumi looked very, very good in jeans. The lovely saleswoman had put him in a black sweater with slightly belled sleeves and a high collar. His velcro shoes had been replaced with black wingtips. 

“These are our Japanese denim jeans. The quality is worlds away from typical denim. It’s much stiffer and it won’t unravel over time.” 

“They look good, Illu.” Illumi seemed unimpressed, but Hisoka figured he was being coy. “And I like that sweater. Your waist looks _very_ svelte.” The saleswoman agreed with an enthusiastic hum. 

“I do, too,” Illumi admitted, lifting his shoulders and then dropping them again. There he was. Hisoka smiled and sipped his champagne.

“Well, let’s get those then, for sure, and the sweater. Go, Illu, try on more.” Illumi shot him a slightly suspicious glance and went back to the changing room. Moments later, a bare arm handed the saleswoman both items. It was a punishing reminder that Illumi was naked just a few feet away from him. Hisoka suddenly, desperately wanted to slither under the door of the changing room and ravish him. Hisoka liked to embarrass Illumi in public; Illumi had an easily disturbed complexion and whenever he blushed, the pink touched his ears and his chest, too. Hisoka loved the color pink.

Illumi’s next ensemble nearly made Hisoka laugh. The blush was there, all over his cheeks, like he had been slapped many times. The saleswoman clapped her hands in delight. Hisoka parroted her. 

“I don’t like patterns,” Illumi said. 

“It’s actually screen-printed!” The saleswoman said. Illumi hated being corrected. His mouth quirked.

“I don’t like screen printings.” 

“I think it’s lovely, Illu,” Hisoka purred. It was. The slacks, black, fitted, straight, were nice. With a bit of tailoring, they would do well. The button down on top, however, was _fantastic._ It was purposefully oversized, and printed over the entirety of it was some old European painting with ochre trees and a silver river and two pale, soft women, naked and crying, coiled over each other as birds flew overhead. Illumi stared down at it and then looked up at Hisoka. For a brief moment, his face was impassive, and then, miraculously, Illumi raised an eyebrow in question. _Well? Do you really like it?_

“Add that to the pile of yes’s!” Hisoka said to the saleswoman. She grinned like a conspiratorial child. 

...

They left the store with five bags of clothes. Hisoka had never spent so much Jenny at once in his life, but he wasn’t feeling any emptiness about it. In fact, he had never been so satisfied. 

“Where to next?” Hisoka asked. Illumi gave him a weary glance. 

“There’s more?” 

“Of course!” 

“I’m hungry.” 

“Then we will stop for food,” Hisoka said. Illumi blinked, surprised he had gotten his way so easily. 

“Okay.” 

...

“Hisoka and his weird little boyfriend are here,” Claude said to the hostess. 

“Oh, dear.” 

“Hello!” Hisoka said, bracing his weight on the host podium. Five full shopping bags from a very expensive store just down the street sat at his feet. Illumi, the assassin one, was standing a few feet back. He was wearing slacks and a black sweater. He looked more normal than usual. At least, his outfit did. 

“Your usual table?” 

“Could we do a table at the Penthouse?” Hisoka asked. Claude grimaced. 

“You know that we can’t do that at such short notice.” 

“Oh, but please?” Hisoka leaned forward, smiling viciously. Claude gave him a look. “I ruined Illumi’s closet and he’s thinking of leaving me. Please save our marriage.” 

“I’m not leaving you,” Illumi said very seriously, frowning at the thought. Claude begrudgingly found it sweet. Hisoka sighed at Illumi’s inability to play along and then rubbed at his brow with his thumb and middle finger. 

“If I get fired for this, it’s on you,” Claude said gravely. Hisoka clapped his hands together in a show of delight. A nervous-looking server locked their bags in the guest closet and then led them up the forty floors to the Penthouse, the restaurant’s private dining experience. They tended to host very important people there and it was–usually–only booked months in advance. 

Their table was situated in a small private room with dark, textured wallpaper. They faced a wall that consisted entirely of windows. The gleaming city laid itself out for them, extending all the way to the horizon.

“This is an elaborate apology,” Illumi noted, an eyebrow raised. The humidity of the city had put a slight wave in Illumi’s normally pin-straight hair. It gently brushed his cheek and draped over his shoulder. Hisoka beamed, propping his chin in his hands. 

You deserve one.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Illumi said slowly, as if he was convincing himself. “I like the new clothes we bought.” 

“And we’re getting more,” Hisoka reminded him. Illumi nodded. 

“Yes, we are. I am… not angry anymore. Thank you.” Hisoka leaned back in his chair and grinned. 

“Wanna have sex?” Illumi looked expectedly affronted. 

“Excuse me? This is a restaurant.” 

“I just bought you a lot of clothes.”

“Because you ruined my clothes,” Illumi pointed out. Hisoka leaned forward again, so close that his nose was nearly touching Illumi’s. Characteristically, Illumi did not flinch or pull away. They stayed like this for a long time, golden eyes boring into black ones, until Hisoka broke the tension with a quick, affectionate lick up the bridge of Illumi’s noise. 

Illumi blinked. 

“I was kidding about the sex,” Hisoka said as Illumi rubbed his nose with disgust. 

“You’re vile.” 

...

After a long, expensive lunch, they shopped for another two hours more. Hisoka had the time of his life. Illumi begrudgingly forgot about his grievances with Hisoka. Besides, he very much liked his new clothes. 

Hisoka had picked out a luxurious coat for him, and more sweaters, and a suit that Illumi insisted he did not need. He also bought matching rainboots for the both of them, bright yellow and knee-length. Illumi had a feeling that that purchase would have happened whether or not Hisoka had desecrated his closet by accident. 

“That was a long day,” Hisoka said airily as Illumi opened the door to their apartment. 

“You have to clean up the closet,” Illumi reminded him. Hisoka made a clicking sound with his tongue and flipped on the lights to the living room. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling Illumi along. “Drop the bags, just follow me, love.” Illumi allowed himself to be pulled back towards his closet like a balloon being tugged by a child. Hisoka held up a finger, asking for patience, and then stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Illumi indulged him for about two minutes before he grew impatient. 

“Hisoka, please let me in.” The door was flung open. Hisoka gestured proudly. He watched for Illumi’s expression, waiting for it to morph into something like shock or delight or fury. Instead, he got, as he often did, nothing. 

“My clothes are fine.” 

“I used Texture Surprise,” Hisoka said giddily. 

“To make them look fine?” Illumi was confused. 

“No, to make them look ruined.” Hisoka’s eyes were glittering in the same way they did when he was fighting someone particularly competent.

“You–”

“I’ve been wanting to take you on a shopping spree, to show my undying love for you, but you know me. I have to throw in a trick here and there.” 

“My clothes–” 

“Are all fine! It was all just Texture Surprise, and then I heated up some blood in the microwave and left it in the corner so the room smelled like–well, you know. I’m amazed I pulled it off. You’re shockingly unobservant sometimes.” Illumi brushed his fingers over the shoulder of an immaculate green jacket, one of his favorites. 

“You wanted to take me shopping?” Illumi asked carefully. Hisoka nodded. “So you had to upset me first?” 

“The lows make the highs so much higher, my dear Illumi.” Illumi blinked. It occurred to Hisoka, suddenly, violently, that Illumi might try to kill him. 

“Are you angry?” Hisoka’s smile was faltering. Illumi sighed. His black eyes flickered, chin tilting as if to assess the room one last time. 

“I wish I was.” Hisoka waited for him to elaborate, his foot tapping anxiously on the floor. “Instead, I’m feeling rather charmed.” Hisoka’s expression brightened and he laughed, threading his fingers through Illumi’s perfect hair. 

“I love you.” 

“Yes, I can tell,” Illumi said dryly. He pulled away gently from Hisoka’s hands and turned to the bedroom. “Come,” he said, throwing Hisoka a glance. Black eyes gleamed like polished stone. “I’ll try on all my new clothes for you so you can take them off.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was oddly difficult for me to write. It was supposed to be funny–literally who knows if it still is. But then it ended up turning slightly sweet? Slightly. 
> 
> Again, please comment and let me know what you thought? I probably won't respond (bc how many variations of a genuine thank you do you guys want to read lol) but just know every comment really motivates me and is generally just a nice little ego boost :)


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